


The Santa Spectacular

by PalenDrome (nerdherderette)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Background Relationships, Bad Puns, Boss/Employee Relationship, Christmas Fluff, Gift Exchange, Holidays, Kylux Secret Santa 2018, M/M, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Content, Past Armitage Hux/Poe Dameron - Freeform, Sexual Humor, Tea and Sympathy, Wingman Phasma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-08-27 19:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16708789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nerdherderette/pseuds/PalenDrome
Summary: It’s six weeks before Christmas, and theater company manager Armitage Hux is the proud owner of a stale holiday revue, dwindling box office receipts, and a suddenly Santa-less show. He’s pulled himself out of scrapes before, but hiring a last-minute replacement may prove to be one of thecraziestbest decisions he's ever made.[excerpt]:Holy shit.Applicant forty-three was huge. And gorgeous. And absolutely wrong for the part.The person who stood before them wore a devilish smile, shoulder-length hair, and a stubbled jaw. A threadbare tee clung to his massive biceps, while a pair of skin-tight jeans showed off a delectable ass that begged to be squeezed.“This guy looks moreBack in BlackthanSanta Baby,”Hux declared, horrified as his voice dissolved into an embarrassing squeak.“I’d be his baby any day,” Mitaka breathed.





	The Santa Spectacular

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hippielicious](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hippielicious/gifts).



> Dear Hippielicious:
> 
> I had such a fun time writing this AU, and did my best to include your likes (fluff, angst, and Millicent!) while keeping the story from veering into explicit territory (fair warning in advance, though, for the lame puns and bawdy humor). So here it is—a holiday fic with a somewhat Grinch-y Hux, and a sexy Kylo who brings back his seasonal spirit. I hope the boys and this story bring you some holiday cheer! <3
> 
> Rated M for language and sexual innuendo.  
> Un-beta'd. All mistakes are my own.

* * *

“Shit!” Hux set down his cup of tea as the door to his office swung open with enough force to make his teeth rattle. He grimaced as he dabbed at the growing stain on his trousers. “Ever hear of knocking?”

“Sorry,” Phasma grinned, not looking apologetic at all. “It was a bit of an emergency.” She spied the box of exquisitely decorated chocolates on the corner of his desk and plucked one out of its cradle. “Pretty,” she declared as she popped it into her mouth.

“Why, yes, Phasma; of course you may have one,” Hux said, arching his brow.

The lines on Phasma’s face slackened as her eyes fluttered shut. “God. I’d trade you my favorite toy collection for these. They’re that good.”

Hux turned back to his schedule, frowning. “For what Richart charges, those bon bons should give you an orgasm _and_ lick up the evidence afterwards.” He tapped his pen absentmindedly, wondering if they should go with the polymer snow. That stuff was a bitch to clean. “Now, what was the emergency again? Or did you barge in here to indulge your sweet tooth at my expense?”

Phasma picked up a tissue and wiped her hands, its pristine surface growing sweet and smudged. “I wish. Seems like our resident Lothario _still_ can’t keep it in his pants.”

 _Fuck._ “Who’d Poe screw around with this time?”

Phasma gave a delicate cough. “Finn.”

Hux paused. He’d prefer if it hadn’t been one of the other actors, but Finn seemed like an easy-going guy. He couldn’t imagine why the hook up would warrant a Phasma-level intervention. “Okay—?”

“And Rey.”

Hux let out an audible groan. “At the same time? I mean, at the same time, but not?” he clarified, wincing as Phasma nodded. “I suppose it would be too much to hope that this was a known and consensual arrangement?”

“Well, as it turns out, Finn and Rey _do_ know...at least, as of ten minutes ago. That’s the problem. Now Rey’s locked in her dressing room, and Finn’s refusing to speak with either her _or_ Poe. Oh, and you might want to budget for a couple of stage lights,” Phasma added, pointing to Hux’s ledgers. “Collateral damage.”

“They’re my three main leads! How am I supposed to run the show if Santa and the two lead elves are looking daggers at each other?” He gestured to the _No Fraternization_ sign above his desk, a copy of which was posted in every actor’s room. “It's supposed to be ‘Happy Holidays’. ‘Have a Merry Fucking Christmas’, and all that drivel. Now it's just going to be bloody awful.” Hux's head hit the desk with a resounding _thunk._

“Well, they've got the ‘fucking’ part down, at least. Maybe even the ‘bloody’.”

“Please,” Hux said with a muffled snort.

Phasma smirked. “And the ‘Ho, ho, ho’.”

Hux peeked up from under his fringe. “Not helping, Phasma.”

Phasma eyed the box of chocolates. She sighed when Hux snapped the lid shut and fixed her with a glare. “Okay. What can I do to help?”

“Make it September instead of November, give me a group of actors who would rather spend more time _in_ costume than out, and please, please let our box office receipts be better than that shit show ‘Mary Poppins does Christmas’ up the street.”

“Hux. It’s just a holiday show,” Phasma said gently.

“P.L.Travers would be turning over in her grave.”

“I don’t mean...what I meant was, we’ll land on our feet. We always do. Every year, something goes wrong, and every year, you pull us through. Anyway, how do you want to handle Poe?”

Hux sighed. “I hate the idea of pulling talent this close to opening, but even if I read Poe the riot act, he won’t remain an angel for long. No matter how much the kids love him as Santa, I can’t afford to replace another member of my company every time he gets the urge to fill a stocking.”

Phasma made a face. “Your punnage is as bad as your mood. Though I get it. We’re going to have to keep our fingers crossed that we can find a decent replacement on such short notice.”

“Yeah,” Hux sighed. “Write up the role for me and run it in the trades and on Backstage. And tell Poe to come and see me.”

“You got it. Need any reinforcements?”

“No, thanks. His judgment may be atrocious, but he’s not.”

Phasma gave him a smile and a mock salute. Not a great way to start off the week; Hux picked up his tea, sputtering at its tepidness.

 _Shit_. The holiday seasons sucked. Add temperamental actors and a demanding public to the mix, and it was a recipe for a clusterfuck of epic proportions.

**.~O~.*.~O~**

“Come on, Hux. Seriously, you’re really gonna can me now? I’ve been Santa for _The Santa Spectacular_ ever since it opened!”

“Right. And every year, we have to go through the same song and dance—”

“Agreed. Time to get another choreographer,” Poe grinned.

“You know what I mean,” Hux snapped. Although Poe _did_ have a point; it was practically impossible, trying to top last year’s act, when every show in town was also upping the ante. “We don’t have the budget and cachet of the bigger productions. It’s hard enough to keep the actors I _do_ have, without you pissing everyone off because you can’t keep it in your pants until after the season.”  

Poe’s mouth dropped open. “You can’t be serious. Jesus, Hux. It’s the holidays. I’ve been banking on this job.”

“Then you should have taken my last five warnings more seriously. Plus, as good as you are, I’m losing two or three actors for every show you're in. I can’t keep going through the talent like this.”

“It’s New York City. Turn around, and you’re bound to hit a wannabe actor. Turn the other direction, and you’ll hit four more. It’s not like it’s Shakespeare. We’re performing for a bunch of kids who are looking for one of two things: where to get their next sugar fix, or how they can score the biggest gift they can without Santa thinking they're greedy little fucks.”

“Ahhh, Poe.” Hux sighed, taking off his glasses and scrubbing his face. “You may be right, but there’s not a lot to be happy about in the world about right now. Let the kids have this, at least. For however long it lasts.”

Poe looked somber. “Wow. You mean it this time, don’t you?”

Hux lifted his shoulders in a delicate shrug. “I’m afraid so. I’ll miss you, Poe. But we’re hanging on by a thread, and when it comes down to it, this is a business. You’re just too risky.”

A sadness flickered in Poe’s eyes. He looked around the room as if taking it in for the last time.

“What do you think? For old time’s sake?” Poe gestured towards the worn leather couch that sat against the far wall, flashing that cocky grin of his that’d charmed the pants off too many, Hux included. The couch was one of the first things Hux had purchased when he had started up this theater production company, for those moments when a ten-minute nap could make all the difference during an all-nighter.

Poe had helped him christen that couch beautifully. Several times over.

Their hook-up was destined for disaster. Though the sex was fantastic, Hux’s prickly nature and meticulousness wore against Poe’s devil-may-care attitude like sandpaper, leaving them both raw and chafed. It was only their passion for their art and the newly formed company—as well as their desperate financial straits—that allowed them to put aside their differences and muddle through together.

Hux had sworn off workplace relationships after that. A credo which he reinforced company-wide. _Especially_ when it came to the actors.

Guilt at Poe’s firing and a million other excuses swam through Hux’s mind. Poe stepped forward, placed his hands on either side of Hux’s face, and bent down to place a chaste kiss on his forehead.

“I’m kidding. I know you’ve given me more than my fair share of chances. And the truth is, I’m probably ready to move on myself. But I’ve had loads of fun, and definitely wish you the best.”

“Thanks, Poe.” It felt inadequate. Hux waited awkwardly, with nothing more to say.

“Don’t thank me. You’ve got enough to worry about, and it’s showing. You were always slender, but now you’re skinny as fuck. Kinda pasty, too.”

“Thanks. I feel loads better, now,” Hux said, although the corners of his lips twitched.

“Remember that you used to _love_ this. Yeah, it was always hard work, but you had _fun._ Find that within you, and you’ll get your audience. And when you do, I’ll be the person sitting front row center, cheering you on.”

**.~O~.*.~O~.**

“Dopheld. Please tell me you’ve got another stash of applicant files hidden away somewhere.”

“Wish I could.” Mitaka handed Hux one more folder, its contents disappointingly thin. “That’s the last one.”

Hux placed it at the bottom of his pile and suppressed a sigh. The past two days were an exercise in optimism and patience, two traits he was never blessed with much of to begin with. But everyone was expecting him to somehow _fix it._ To turn this disaster of a shit show into something viable.

“What number is this?” Hux asked, turning to Phasma. He stared at the writing in front of him, his eyes glazed.

“Forty-three out of forty-five.” Upon seeing Hux’s dismayed look, she shrugged. “At least we have a lot of applicants.”

“Applicant twenty-eight is not only too young to vote, he doesn’t have a performer’s permit. Actors nine and thirty-seven smelled like a dive bar following Pledge Week at a Big Ten college. Applicant two looked like he would collapse if a child weighing more than twenty pounds should sit on his lap. And let’s not forget about number seventeen—who, while _looking_ the part of the jolly, old fellow, happened to have one of the foulest mouths I’ve ever heard.”

“Yeah,” Mitaka said, blushing. “He’d be better for _The XXX Spectacular._ Not _The Santa Spectacular.”_

“Aww, Mitaka. You sweet bean,” Phasma grinned.

“How can you guys joke at a time like this? We’ve got no one who’s even _close_ to a reasonable candidate. I’m ready to go down to Herald Square to hire the Salvation Army Santa stationed in front of the Macy’s.”

“Well, maybe one of the next three will be the one,” Phasma said sympathetically. “You never know.”

Mitaka coughed. Something about its delicate nature raised Hux’s hackles. “Actually...there’s just one left.”

Hux’s brow nearly disappeared under his fringe. “I thought you said this one was forty-three out of forty-five,” he said, turning to Phasma accusingly.

“Umm..he _is_ number forty-three, Hux. But it turns out that Thanisson and Tico decided to order take-out.” Mitaka took a deep breath. “I may have mistaken the delivery guys for forty-four and forty-five.”

“Seriously? The bags of food didn’t clue you in?”

“I thought they were anticipating a big wait!”

“Leave Mitaka alone, Hux,” Phasma chided. “It’s been a long day. Remember, _this_ one could be ‘the one’.”

“You’ve said that for the last twenty,” Hux said with a long sigh. He waved his hand wearily. “Whatever. Send him in. Might as well go out with a bang.”

Mitaka hurried off. Hux opened the file forcefully, snorting when the headshot floated out from the folder and landed on the floor, upside down.

 _Great,_ he thought as he bent down to pick it up. This definitely boded well for—

“Holy shit,” Phasma breathed. She jerked the back of Hux’s shirt, causing his head to nearly bang against the corner of the table. _"Hux._ Holy shit.”

Hux glared at Phasma, straightening the hem of his shirt. “Not your most eloquent,” he began as Phasma signaled towards the stage frantically.

_Holy shit._

Applicant forty-three was huge. And gorgeous. And absolutely wrong for the part.

The person who stood before them wore a devilish smile, shoulder-length hair, and a stubbled jaw. A threadbare tee clung to his massive biceps, while a pair of skin-tight jeans showed off a delectable ass that begged to be squeezed.

“This guy looks more _Back in Black_ than _Santa Baby,”_ Hux declared, horrified as his voice dissolved into an embarrassing squeak.

“I’d be his baby any day,” Mitaka breathed.

“Either he’s packing a codpiece, or he’s got the entire twelve days of Christmas stuffed down his pants,” Phasma chimed in.

 _Forget twelve days; try the entire month_. “Even with makeup and a wig, it’s going to be hard to sell the part,” Hux said, trying to corral his indecorous thoughts. “Think of the kids.”

“Think of the parents,” Phasma chortled. “I know plenty of moms and even some dads who’d be willing to sit on _that_ Santa’s lap. Besides, the kids will just think he’s cool.”

“He still has to be convincing. I don’t care how good-lo—good of a people person he is,” Hux said hastily, squinting at the application. _“Kylo Ren?_ Seriously? Who chooses that as their nom de plume?”

“We’re not exactly putting on Shakespeare. All he has to do is give a couple good belly-laughs, twinkle those fine eyes, and say ‘Merry Christmas’ with enough reverb to have some meaning.”

Mitaka looked up at Hux. “Hux. You think he’s _good-looking,”_ he said pointedly.

“Excuse me,” the hunk— _Kylo—_ said from the stage, interrupting Hux’s ready denial. “I thought this was for a speaking role? Because if it’s not, then I’m sorry to have wasted your time, and I definitely need to talk to my agent.”

 _His agent?_ Hux arched his brow; there weren’t many people banging on his stagedoor who had professional representation, aside from some family member or significant other. “Can you tell us about some of your more recent roles, _Kylo?”_

“I was ‘Antonio’ in _The Merchant of Venice_ in last year’s ‘Shakespeare in the Park’. I played ‘Cliff’ in the Millennium Theatre Company’s production of _Look Back in Anger_  until two months ago. It’s all there, on my resume.”

Mitaka nudged Hux as he pointed to Kylo’s paperwork. “He had a role in a Steven Spielberg movie!” he whispered.

The man was obviously talented, but something didn’t sit right. Hux barreled forward, swallowing his pride in favor of transparency. “Impressive, Mr. Ren. May I ask why you’re auditioning for a role in a regional theater production that barely pays the Actor’s Equity weekly wage?”

“I’m a method actor—” Kylo began.

“Wait,” Phasma interrupted. “If you’re here to fuck Mrs. Claus, that’s not happening. We’ve got a _‘No Fraternization’_ policy in place.”

“What? No,” Kylo said as pink spots bloomed on his cheeks. “Method acting isn’t just about creating an outward representation of your character, 24-7. It’s teasing out their subconscious motivations...connect with their emotions. My next audition is for a character whose arc is heavily influenced by his childhood experiences. So I thought: what better way to explore the themes of childhood as preparation, than to play Santa himself?”

“Rubbish,” Hux muttered under his breath, his face adopting a pinched expression. “The analytical approach of the Practical Aesthetics method is a much more effective technique.”

Apparently, it wasn’t muttered low enough. “Well, that’s why I’m up here, and you’re—”

“Hux,” Phasma hissed in warning as Hux felt his temper flare. “If you drive this guy away, we’re going to be stuck with the drunk, barely-competent Santa as our only option.”

“Fine,” Hux ground out. He shuffled the folders in front of him in an attempt to reign in his anger. There was a good chance he’d be joining one of the drunk Santas at the nearest bar as soon as this was over. “Why don’t we start with the sides for the North Pole scene, from ‘I’ve been looking forward to this all year’. I’ll read the part of Mrs. Claus.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to revise that ‘No Fraternization’ policy?” Phasma whispered, barely flinching as Hux kicked her under the table.

His irritation was quickly forgotten, however, once Kylo began to read. He forgot about their little disagreement, and even the way Kylo’s long legs and delicious derriere had looked in those filthy jeans. Kylo’s voice carried across the theater, his body and face magically transformed as he threw himself into the character, the vibration of that iconic laugh rumbling from Hux’s belly to his toes.

“Holy shit. He’s brilliant,” Hux breathed as Mitaka nodded.

Kylo didn’t break character, but his smile might have gotten just a little bit bigger.

**.~O~.*.~O~.**

Usually, Hux liked to arrive at the office an hour earlier than the rest of the cast and crew. There was something that he liked about the stillness of the stage—of losing himself in its storied past, in the sweat of those who had preceded him, and the mutability and vulnerability and triumph of it all. He’d learned by his mid-twenties that the hardships of an actor’s life were more than a truism. He transitioned his visionary and organizational skills into the role of a director instead, and then—when he found himself saddled with a small company with an even smaller budget—he became one of those hyphenated clichés when he tacked on ‘theater company manager’ to his name as well.

He walked by the half-constructed sets, alongside all the red and green and gold costumes that littered the racks, and reminded himself that it was worth it.

He’d barely had time to peel back the lid to his tea to take a sip from the wax-coated cup before he was interrupted by a loud noise in the lobby. There was some shuffling about; a muffled curse; and then the sound of a large object toppling over. “Hello?” Hux called out. He ran towards the entrance, dismayed to see the cardboard cutout of Santa and his helpers on the floor, covered in what smelled like hot chocolate. “Ren?” he asked as Kylo watched him sheepishly, a large, rectangular box in one hand and a carton filled with drinks in the other. “What are you doing here? Rehearsal doesn’t start for at least an hour.”

“Yeah. Um...you’re usually here early, and I was hoping to have some time before the rest of the cast arrives to get into character.”

“I can’t let you into the playing area by yourself. It’s a liability issue.”

“I came bearing gifts. Surely, that counts for something.” Kylo held up the box he was carrying in a tempting fashion. Which, Hux admitted, was pretty much mission-accomplished once Kylo had flexed his biceps. “Donuts from The Doughnut Project.”

Hux wrinkled his nose. “Are you trying to fatten yourself up for the performance? You’re carrying an entire day’s worth of calories in the palms of your hands.”

“Would you rather I have something else in my palms?”

“What? No! Don’t be ridiculous.” Hux crossed his arms and gave Kylo his best glare. Was Kylo... _flirting?_ “You know the policy on fraternization!” He stepped to the side, onto the cutout and sticking a heel through Santa’s head in the process.

Kylo put the box of donuts and drinks on the counter. “I’m sorry,” he said, bending to pick up the standee. Hux deliberately dragged his eyes away from the tempting sight. “I’ll buy you another.”

“It’s not like they sell these at the nearest CVS. You can’t just traipse in, flick a magic wand, and expect everything to be all right.”

“Okay; first of all, we live in New York City. If we can’t find something here, which is highly doubtful, then the internet’s just a click away. Second? I disagree. Sometimes, things _do_ just work out that easily.”

Hux pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “Perhaps. But...little things like the cost of replacing this? It adds up,” he said, looking at the sign that was now tilted at a decidedly non-pristine angle.

“Are we in bad shape? How are ticket sales?”

“Box office receipts are middling. We’ve only a couple weeks until the opening, and there’s nearly five hundred tickets left for the entire run. Four-hundred and sixty eight, to be exact. Usually, by this time, it’s closer to a hundred. If even that.” Hux made a motion for Kylo to follow. They walked over the the auditorium; the engravings on the proscenium were covered in red and gold, the edges dusted in silver glitter. He opened the pass door and held it for Kylo to enter. “The company’s on it’s last leg. If we can’t break even…”

Kylo’s eyes filled with understanding. “Everything’s hinging on this show. That’s why you’re always so serious. The ‘No Fraternization policy’, and all.”

“I’m the company manager. It’s my job to be serious.”

“Yes. But this is also a _Christmas_ show, Hux. Happy holidays; merry and bright; joy to the world? If you insist on being all bah-humbug about it, it’s going to rub off on everyone else. Bad karma, you know?”

“I also know what would happen if I loosened the reins. I’ve worked with this group forever; more than that, I used to be one of them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was an actor myself.”

“But you’re not anymore. You’re too busy crunching numbers, worrying about marketing and box office receipts, and inserting yourself into people’s lives. You’ve separated yourself from the entire creative process. Theater’s one of those jobs you go into only if you absolutely love it. You’ve lost that. It’s not fun for you, anymore.”

Hux sank down onto the bench. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, picking up one of the elven hammers. He let the head drop against the tabletop, his lips thinning as it bounced several times. “Go down to the nearest department store, sit on Santa’s lap, and revive my inner child?”

“Why do that when there are perfectly serviceable options right here?”

Hux rolled his eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”

“I mean—” Kylo blushed. “There are a lot of opportunities to revive your love of theater right here. You could fill in for one of the roles in today's rehearsal, for example.”

“First of all, if I’m going to play any part, it would be yours.”

Kylo let out a long laugh. “Seriously? You’re skinny and dour. Like Santa after a year-long diet of wheatgrass juice and kale.”

“You’re not exactly classic Santa material yourself.”

Kylo sat, straddling the bench as he pushed the box of donuts towards Hux. “It’s not just the physical likeness that’s important. It’s all about connecting with your character. Method acting, remember?”

“Mmm.” Hux toyed with the corner of the box absentmindedly. “I’m _not_ having an argument over acting methods, nor am I taking part in the rehearsal. But since you came here early, I’ll run your lines with you, if you’d like.”

“Yeah? I’d definitely like that.” Kylo popped open the top of the bakery box. An array of donuts stared back at Hux, smelling delicious and looking nearly too beautiful to eat. He held out the box to Hux expectantly.

Hux hesitated even as his mouth watered. “Didn’t you buy these for the group?”

“And what are you, if not that?” Kylo asked gently. “We’re in this together, Hux. We want this to succeed, just as much as you.”

Hux picked out one of the donuts that was covered in a smooth, raspberry glaze and decorated with sparkles. “Oh my god. This could be the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he sighed as he bit into it, the ricotta filling bursting onto his tongue..

“See?” Kylo said, looking inordinately pleased.

“Don’t get cocky. It’s not becoming, especially for Santa.” Hux held out the script. “Let’s do this.”

They traded lines over the next half hour, the synergy between them growing. Hux became so engrossed in the exercise that he failed to notice Mitaka entering, the assistant director’s eyes widening in amazement before he turned around and quietly shut the pass door.

**.~O~.*.~O~.**

Hux startled at the insistent buzzing.

“Remind me not to live in the same apartment complex with someone I know ever again, Millicent,” he murmured, giving the ginger tabby an affectionate stroke. She jumped off the couch and tilted her head, giving him a disbelieving look as the buzzing grew louder. “I’m serious. If we move, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

She rubbed against him, her tail raised high as she stalked away in a dignified huff. He let out a sigh, then made his way to the entranceway as the buzzing devolved into one long, annoying noise.

“A minute more and I would’ve called the super,” the intruder said blithely as Hux scowled.

“You’re finding your way off my ‘nice list’ with record speed, Phasma.”

“Pish posh. I much prefer to be on the naughty one, and you know it.”

“I hope you have a good reason for interrupting my peace and quiet on the _one_ day I don’t have to be at the theater until two.”

“I do.” Phasma bent down and scooped Millicent up into her arms. “Hi, beautiful,” she cooed, scritching the contented cat behind her ears.

“Traitor,” Hux hissed as Millicent purred. He made his way to the kitchen to prepare another cup of tea.

“I’ve never the patience to make it correctly,” Phasma observed. She put Millicent down and watched as Hux added the milk to one warmed cup, and steeped the leaves in another.

“It’s why you conveniently find yourself at my doorstep every weekend morning.” Hux finished steeping the tea, then poured it slowly over the milk, the darkness of the Earl Grey turning a creamy tan. He handed the cup to Phasma, who sipped it appreciatively.

“Oh. That’s really good.” She lowered her lashes and took another sip as the steam curled gently over her upper lip. _"Really_ good. Every time I make it, the milk always curdles.”

“The proper tea requires patience and a delicate touch,” Hux said, setting about to make another.

Phasma arched a brow. “So, like you, then?”

“Nice. You interrupt my peaceable existence, drink my tea, and insult me in the process.”

“Not an insult, darling. Just an observation. And ‘peaceable’ is the furthest thing from what you are. Your entire life is jumping from one stressful situation to another.” She reached out and ruffled Hux’s hair. “That’s why you’re so prickly. So, like I said...requiring a delicate touch. Now Kylo, on the other hand—”

Hux felt his back stiffen. “What does Kylo have to do with any of this?”

“Well, he’s big and bold, and deliciously handsome. And he’s made no bones about his attraction to you. Sort of like the tea. Think of what a great combination you’d make.”

“Don’t start,” Hux said with a pinched expression. “You’re worse than Mrs. Snootles down the hall.”

“She wants you and Kylo to get together, too?” Phasma asked with a huge grin.

“No...just. No.” Hux let out a long breath. “I’ve enough with people thinking I need a man in my life. What’s wrong with my life as it is, anyway? I have you. The company. Millicent. Who says I need anything more?”

“There’s nothing wrong, if that’s what makes you happy,” Phasma said gently. “But you sit there with a moony expression every time Kylo walks on stage. And you can’t tell me that you’re content with life as it is.”

“My life’s fine. It’s safe. More importantly, I don’t want to fuck things up.”

Phasma finished the last of her tea and set down her cup. “What are you so scared of?”

“I can’t pursue a relationship with Kylo—or anyone else, for that matter. _The Santa Spectacular_ is our biggest-selling show. Then I have to focus on the one for spring. I can’t afford the distraction.”

Phasma took Hux’s tea out of his hand. “Wait. So you’re saying that it’s either or? Let me tell you, Armitage; companies go under all the time. You can pour your heart and soul into this place, but another show will come along that captures the public’s attention and steals your thunder. Or maybe it’s a bad review from some disgruntled critic that does the job. Or maybe there’s a big corporation with a bottomless budget who decides to finance a splashy musical, and wants our theater as their venue. There’s no way you can control _every_ influence. And if that happens, what do you have left?”

She put his empty cup next to hers on the table. Millicent walked up behind Hux, her head butting against his lower leg.

“By the way,” Phasma added. “I did stop by for a reason, besides your amazing tea. I wanted to tell you that as of this morning, we’ve only got forty-eight tickets left unsold.”

“What?” Hux stared, his mouth gaping unbecomingly. “That’s impossible. Did someone’s long-lost, very extended family fly in for the holidays?”

Phasma shook her head. “The entire troupe’s been involved in spreading the word. It was Kylo’s idea, actually. They’ve been spending their free time reaching out to the community—doing promotional tours, in libraries and schools. The kids love it, and the goodwill has been a boon. Some benefactor bought a huge block of tickets for opening night, and honestly, happy children are the best when it comes to word of mouth. I wouldn’t be surprised if we sold out later today.”

A flash of hurt flew through Hux. “I should have been part of it.”

Phasma’s smile disappeared. “They didn’t want to bother you when you had so many other things to worry about. I, uh, may have given them the approval.”

Hux’s hands shook. _“Et tu?_ Am I so far removed that you had to keep something like this from me?”

“Hux. You implemented a ‘No Fraternizing’ rule. What are people supposed to think?”

“Shit.” Hux pulled out a chair from under the table and plonked down onto it, laying his head in his hands. “I’ve lost sight of everything, haven’t I?” he muttered into his palms.

There was the squeak of a chair as Phasma sat down beside him. “It’s not too late, Hux. At the risk of sounding overly-sentimental, for some reason or another, these people care about you. From those who’ve known you forever, like Rey and Finn, to the newbies like Kylo. _Especially_ Kylo.”

Hux lifted his head. “What do you mean, ‘especially’ Kylo?”

“The boy’s got quite the crush on you. It’s blatantly obvious. Always hanging around after rehearsal’s over, trying to get your ear. Coming in early to run his lines.” Phasma’s eyes narrowed. “You didn’t think he showed up that day with donuts from your favorite place in the city just on a whim, did you?”

“Nice to know nothing’s sacred between us, Phas.”

“Not when it comes to your happiness, Hux.” She leaned over and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We’re performing at the Children’s Library in Queens at 10:30, if you want to check it out. Plenty of time to get there and back before two.”

Hux thought back to the first time he’d set foot onstage in the theater he now called home, and how far his company had come. He thought about the dedication of the people who’d worked there, whether year around or just for the season, and who kept coming back for more. He thought about Kylo—with his soft smile; his drool-worthy physique; his understated compassion; and his undiluted passion for his craft.

“If that’s where my company is, Phasma, you can bet I’m going to be there.”

Phasma stood and brought their cups to the sink, but even her turned back couldn’t hide her grin.

**.~O~.*.~O~.**

A ride on the E-line and one hour later, Hux was having second thoughts. He clutched the garment bag close to his side as he made his way through the throngs of excitable children and their exasperated parents.

“Hux. You’re here.” Rey stared, her face scrunched up with worry. “Is everything okay?”

Finn’s jaw went slack. “Oh, fuck. You found out about us.”

“What? No, I—” Hux’s eyes widened as his head swiveled back between Rey and Finn. “Wait a minute. The two of you are together?”

Finn put a protective arm around Rey. “I know you’ve got this whole policy against hooking up, but we’ve been keeping it separate from work.”

“Finn and I bonded over the whole Poe thing, and then it just kind of happened.” Rey looked at Hux with a mix of entreaty and determination. “This show isn’t just your baby; it’s all of ours. We’d never do anything to compromise it.”

Hux scrubbed his face, suddenly feeling more grimey than the subway ride he took to get here. “I know you won’t. I also know I haven't any right to tell you how to—or how _not_ to—live your lives. And I should’ve known better, because you’ve never given me anything less than one-hundred percent,” he admitted as Finn and Rey gave each other twin looks of surprise.

“If you knew how much time we’d put into—” Finn winced as Rey elbowed him in the side. “Um...anyway; thanks, man. It means a lot.”

“To me, as well,” Hux said, the new truce settling over his cynical frame uncomfortably.

Rey’s eyes gravitated to the garment bag that he clutched in his grip. “First Order Cleaners? We haven’t used them in years. What do you have in there, Hux?”

Hux took a deep breath. “I thought I’d join you today. Stand quietly in the background; help out with the meet and greet. Lend my support.”

“Oh, no,” Rey laughed, her hazel eyes flashing with glee. “If that’s what I think it is, you’re performing. We’re doing the ‘Santa’s Workshop’ scene, and you’d be perfect in it.” She looked Hux up and down; Hux felt a twinge of apprehension as her lips spread into a wicked grin. “In fact...” _Cough._ “I've got this horrible pain in my throat.”  _Cough, cough._ “Better sit this performance out if I want to remain healthy for opening night.” _Cough._

“You’re atrocious,” Hux remarked, although the jibe lacked any heat. “I hope it’s not an indication of your performance next week.” He winced as Rey cuffed him across his upper arm in retaliation.

Finn nodded sympathetically. “We’re going on in fifteen minutes, Hux. Bathroom’s all the way down the hall, to your left.”

“And Hux?” Rey added as Hux began to make his way towards the library doors. “In case that costume no longer fits you, you’re free to borrow mine as well.”

Hux felt his face flush. He cast a quick look around. Most of the families were hovering near the tree on the far side of the library, which was decorated within an inch of its life. He flipped Rey a rude gesture, which she answered with a peal of laughter as he scurried out the door.

**.~O~.**

Hux’s pleasure at seeing a _clean_ public bathroom, complete with its well-painted stalls, dry vanity top, and the smell of disinfectant was interrupted as his brain short-circuited. Because Kylo was standing by the sinks, his milky skin a pale and massive canvas against the blue-tiled background, clad only in a pair of tiny, black briefs.

“This is a _children’s_ library, Kylo,” Hux wheezed as Kylo bent over to pull on his pants. “What if someone walked in on you?”

Surprise flitted over Kylo’s face upon seeing Hux, which he quickly supplanted with a lift of his brow. “You did, and you survived. Besides,” he continued as Hux sputtered, “there’s no lock on the door, and the stalls are made for people half my size.” He shimmied his hips, pulling on the second pant leg. “It’s not like they’d see anything they couldn’t at the beach, anyway.”

 _Only if the beach were in the Mediterranean, frequented by fit men whose more-than-ample packages were shoved into itsy, bitsy Speedos._ Hux blinked, then shook his head. “That’s a mouthful of negatives. Still, I’d rather not have any irate parents suggesting our show’s anything less than wholesome.”

“Maybe that’s what you should do next year,” Kylo suggested as he shrugged on his undershirt. “Put on a risque version. Subvert the roles.”

“Not sure mainstream America is quite ready for that yet.”

“Please,” Kylo huffed, the exhalation blowing back the fringe of his hair. “This is New York.”

“May I remind you that Trump lives here as well?”

“He’s practically been exiled. Besides, people are more open-minded than you think. Look at what’s popular on youtube and in the media. Don’t let the shouting of a few vocal assholes color your picture of the world.”

Unfortunately, Hux had met more than his fair share of influential, vocal assholes throughout his life. “Maybe,” he said slowly. “Let’s just get through this season, first.”

Kylo slipped on his Santa jacket and zippered it closed. “I hope you’re not angry that we’ve been doing this,” he said, peeping up from his long lashes as he cinched his belt. “It’s been fun, and we’ve gained quite a bit of exposure. There was a nice write-up in _The Queens Courier_ last week.”

The import of everything that had transpired wasn’t lost on Hux. “I heard you were the mastermind,” he admitted. “Thank you. I’m just sorry I wasn’t part of it.”

“You’re here now, Hux. You’re just one person; anyone can see how much you do. You’re always the first person in, and the last to leave. Plus, Mitaka’s shit at keeping secrets. I found out you’ve been withholding your own salary for the past two weeks.”

 _Fuck._ “Actually, Mitaka’s great at keeping secrets. Just, apparently, not from the people he fancies.”

Somehow, the mention of Mitaka’s crush caused Kylo to blush. “Seems to be a bit of that going around,” he muttered. “Not that anything will ever come of it. Given the ‘No Fraternization’ policy, and all.”

“About that. I’m disbanding the policy. It’s not fair; your personal life should have no bearing on your work. So...” Hux took a deep breath, even as something ached deep inside his chest.  _"_ _IfyouwantotgettogetherwithMitakathere’snothingstoppingyounow.”_

“Mitaka? I’m not interested in Mitaka—” Kylo stopped. “Hux; why do you think I’m doing all of this?”

“Because you’re a good guy. Because you want the show to be a success. Because you care about the other cast members.” Hux’s brow furrowed. “Am I forgetting anything else?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Kylo seemed flummoxed, the color of his face nearly rivaling his suit. “It’s because I really, really like you.”

“You do?” Hux whispered, taking a step closer. “You—”

“—really do,” Kylo finished. “And I’m going to tell you just how much _after_ the show, because the last thing I’m about to do is to engage in a discussion of how deep my ‘like’ for you is in the bathroom of a public library while dressed as Santa.”

“Half-dressed,” Hux reminded him. He dug out his phone from his coat pocket. “We’ll have to hurry if we’re going to make it in time.”

“We?”

“I’m standing in for Rey.” Hux unzipped the garment bag halfway, exposing the bells and ribbons that were sewn into the neckline of his outfit.

Kylo’s face twitched. “That looks remarkably like the costume for the Angry Head Elf.”

“It is. A previous version of it, anyway.” Hux let out a long sigh. “It was this, or Rey’s costume,” Hux huffed as he thought about the dress, with its striped stockings and tutu skirt, and the sparkly, well-fitted bodice that could give the Rockettes a run for their money.

“Now _that’s_ a sight that would make this Santa spectacularly happy,” Kylo growled, his eyes darkening.

Hux took a step forward. “Maybe another time. I’m available on Tuesdays and Fridays, for private parties,” he added boldy.

Kylo brushed an errant lock of hair from Hux’s face. “Friday’s good. And the Tuesday after.” He looked torn, professionalism finally winning out. “Show first. Get changed; I’ll guard the door to protect your modesty. I won’t even peek.”

Hux hung the garment bag over the top of the stall, then turned towards Kylo. “You _could_ look, you know," he purred, running his finger along the edge of the costume's thick, patent leather belt. "I wouldn’t mind, seeing as I got a nice eyeful when I walked in here myself.”

The silence hummed between them. For several agonizing seconds, Hux wondered if he had been _too_ bold. But then Kylo shifted uncomfortably, and when Hux looked down, he discovered that this particular Santa was one jolly and happy fellow, indeed.

**_Epilogue_ **

“Hey, Hux! Thanisson’s girlfriend brought in a shit ton of cupcakes from the bakery down the street. Plus, Rey’s got eggnog and punch.”

“Sugar and booze. Sounds like a winning combination, Mitaka.”

“Non-alcoholic. We’re saving the good stuff for a night when we don’t have a matinee the next morning.” Mitaka squinted up at where Hux was fiddling with one of the set decorations, several steps up the ladder. “Want me to get one of the tech crew to take care of that for you?”

“No need. This should only take a second.”

“Okay. Don’t be too long, though. A celebration wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Promise.” Hux smiled as Mitaka exited . He leaned over, extending his arm as far as he could to wrap the last inch of the stem over the post. He scrambled down the ladder, stopping only when his descent was hampered by a firm and muscular wall.

“Hey.” A strong hand settled against the curve of Hux’s back. “Mitaka said you were battling with some foliage.”

Hux gave Kylo a huge grin. “Not any more. I can declare myself the clear victor in this instance.” Hux pointed up to the sprig in question, which chose that precise moment to loosen itself from its perch. “Seriously?” he asked, picking it up from the floor.

“It’s because you didn’t appease the mistletoe gods,” Kylo said, plucking the decoration from Hux’s hand. “They demand a kiss.” He raised up onto his toes and re-tied the end to the wooden beam in front of Santa’s house.

“I don’t get it. You’re only a couple inches taller than I,” Hux groused as the prop hung happily, without any further dramatics.

“I still think you owe me a kiss. As thanks to the mistletoe gods, and your handsome savior.”

“Mmmm.” Hux leaned in, wrapping his hand around the nape of Kylo’s neck. The strands of Kylo’s hair slid between his fingers in a way that had become beautifully familiar. Hux tugged gently, watching as Kylo’s eyes grew heavy-lidded, the color of his irises deepening as Kylo’s lips parted to welcome Hux’s eager mouth.

“You were amazing tonight,” Hux murmured. “I’m going to do whatever I can to hire you away from your next project so you can reprise your starring role.”

“Planning to get rid of me so quickly?” Kylo teased, nipping at Hux’s bottom lip. “I’m not like Ol’ Saint Nick, who only comes once a year.”

“Mmmm. A point which you made abundantly clear last night.”

Kylo took a step back. “Armitage Hux. Tell me you didn't turn an innocent comment about the holidays and my dedication to the arts into something indecent,” he demanded in mock horror.

“Please. As if there’s anything innocent about you.” Hux let gaze rake eagerly over Kylo. He couldn’t believe that it was less than two months ago when this gorgeous, talented, tall drink of the-best-boyfriend-ever-in-the-history-of-boyfriends had breezed into his audition and upended his life.

“I’m wounded,” Kylo said. “Just for that, you’re not coming down my chimney tonight.”

“Oh, god. Worst. Pun. Ever.” Hux sighed, throwing caution to the wind. _If you can’t beat them, join them,_ and all that. “It’s okay. I know of a back door that’s usually open.”

“I’ve created a monster,” Kylo said, looking inordinately pleased.

“Hey.” The stage door opened with a clang, followed by the echoes of Phasma’s heels as she made her way down the aisle. “Lips apart and asses into the dressing room. I can’t keep the vultures away from the food forever, you know.”

“Coming.” Hux glanced up at the mistletoe where it hung, steadfast and happy. “One more for good measure,” he said as he tasted Kylo’s lips.

“On the off-chance that you _don’t_ make it backstage, remember that call time’s at noon tomorrow,” Phasma said with a snicker as she walked out.

Hux sighed, then cocked his head towards the exit. “We should go—”

“And fraternize?” Kylo asked with a grin.

“Absolutely.” Hux hesitated. Perhaps it was the giddiness of opening night or the comfort of Kylo in his arms, but he couldn’t hold back on what he was feeling. “I must confess; you’re the best thing that's happened to me all year.”

Kylo didn’t miss a beat. “And who knows what the next one will bring?”

“Something spectacular, I’m sure,” Hux asserted fervently. He took Kylo’s hand in his, his heart filled with all the joy of the season as they walked off stage to join the celebration that awaited them together.

**~*~**

 

**Author's Note:**

> *Come say "hi" on Tumblr: [nerdherderette](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nerdherderette)


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